


Damien's Journal

by daisyisawriter91



Series: James Shefford [3]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:44:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: Damien reliably keeps a journal through his time with his lover, James.





	1. Summer

**June the 5th**

I visited James today. As beautiful as ever, as I suspected. I doubt he even realizes how he torments me, so.  
He took me to the balcony and made tea with nimble, deft hands, stained with ink and covered in calluses. Some of the ink was still fresh as he ran a hand through his wild curls, spreading black stains across the brown, illuminated in the June sun.  
I could write sonnet after sonnet, love song after love song, about James Shefford. At this point, I’m half certain he stepped out of my fondest dream and became real, right before my eyes.  
Others overlook his beauty. This angers me more than I can even begin to comprehend, that they don’t even see what’s before them. Eyes of a mossy spring, a crooked, awkward smile, glasses somehow all wrong and yet perfect for his face.  
I feel pathetic even writing this out. A lovestruck fool utterly lost for one of his dearest friends. On the way to his apartment, I saw a vendor selling flowers, and very nearly bought one. His favorite. Lilacs.  
In the middle of my visit, I must have said something inspirational, as he grinned a genuine grin and ran off to find his notebook, frantically scribbling inside it with the energy of a madman. Then he looked up at me with the most heartbreaking, breathtaking smile.  
He apologized for the sudden departure, but I was far from upset. Every day, I grow more and more enamored with him.  
When I am with him, everything he does makes me love him a little bit more. Every tilt of his head, every stray chuckle, every muttered sentence I’ve learned to listen for.  
I wonder, some days, what he would do if he found this journal. I hope he never does. 

**June the 6th**

My hands have never shaken as they do, now. I can barely write this. But I have to, I simply cannot keep these feelings inside.  
The rain has been pouring all day and all night. While out running an errand, I came across James, standing in the rain without an umbrella or jacket. Naturally, I was worried. Had something happened?  
I held my umbrella over his head, not the easiest feat, considering his height, but I would do much more for him. He smiled at me, soaked to the bone but looking utterly pleased. It was easily as straight as I’d ever seen his hair. He was shivering, despite the night’s warmth.  
I asked him what he was doing out in the rain, all by himself. He answered with “I’m looking.” He looked at me, then.  
“It was for inspiration,” he said. “But I think I found what I needed to.”  
My heart sped up to what was surely an unhealthy level. I thought, it couldn’t be me. It was just a coincidence. He would have said that to Penelope just as easily, right?  
He then asked me to promise him I wouldn’t leave him. Never so easily have I made a promise. The world would have to rip itself apart to keep me away from James, and even that I would make certain was a temporary thing.  
He then said the most beautiful words I have ever heard. Words I will repeat to myself whenever anger or sadness plagues me again, words I will repeat even while I’m happy.  
“I’ve been so scared to tell you, Damien. But I finally have the courage. Or maybe it’s an excess of stupidity. I love you.”  
He looked fearless, for just one moment. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always had caution and a fair bit of dread behind his eyes, in everything he does or says. But in one heartstopping moment, he wasn’t afraid. This was a man who would dance in the rain instead of watch it fall. And he used that fearlessness to tell me he loves me.  
I’m not ashamed to say, I kissed him then and there. I didn’t care that I discarded the umbrella in in my haste, that my hands, my hair, my clothes, my mouth got wet. I didn’t care, because I’ve never felt warmer.  
He tasted of peaches and coffee, of rainwater and summer, itself. He tasted better than I could have even imagined in my wildest fever dreams.  
It felt like my life had lead up to that moment. That every good thing I’ve ever experienced was simply preparing me for that one singular moment.  
He broke the contact first, and looked at me through heavily lidded eyes, shining with what I can only hope was affection. I finally told him what I’ve been bottling up for nearly a year now. I love him.  
I wish I had told him how much. I wish I had told him how my heart aches when all he does is smile.  
No matter. There will be time for that. He loves me. What more could I ask? 

**June the 13th**

James asked me over last night. He was armed with a kitchen full of Italian food made from scratch and a proposition. Have dinner on his balcony as the sun set around us, engulfing the world in darkness. For once, this isn’t my own thoughts. It was his. And I fell even further in love. I thought that was impossible.  
He apologized for not having wine. He seemed genuinely upset, like I would leave if he couldn’t properly provide wine. I would never leave him for anything, much less something as silly as this. We drank grape juice, and it was better than any wine or champagne I’ve ever had, just as his cooking was better than any five star restaurant could ever hope to be.  
We talked for hours after that, illuminated by the moon, holding hands across the table. He pointed out constellations he made up as a child, and I was enthralled.  
The night grew a bit cold. James lead me inside, and I expected him to ask me to leave. I would have. But he didn’t ask, so I didn’t leave.  
Instead, he sat with me on his old sofa, one I remember helping him pick up during university. Penelope and I helped maneuver it into his apartment at the time. I still can’t believe he has it.  
We sat for a while, making conversation, and then I kissed him. He didn’t ask me to stop. We made love that night.  
I’ve never experienced anything quite like that in my entire life, and doubt I would have ever felt it if it wasn’t with James. I cannot even begin to put it into words, what I felt that night.  
He fell asleep on my chest, my hand in his hair, his arm over my stomach. I felt so safe, safer than I would with the highest level security.  
I’m back home now. I made him breakfast, but was forced to leave due to my work. And all around my head is a chant of his name. 

**July the 1st**

It has been some time since I wrote in this journal. I have no regrets, however. I have been spending every waking moment with my love. I still get a thrill from calling him that. Because, indeed, that is what he is. My love.  
I’ve been spoiled, this past week. He’s been staying with me. He’s never been a morning person, but that works out for me. I wake up before him, and get to watch him sleep, bathed in morning sun. He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, curls draped over the pillow. It’s better than I ever could have imagined.  
And when he wakes up, oh, it’s difficult to describe. Eyes heavy from sleep, a smile crooked before he fully understands what’s happening, all he knows is that I’m beside him. That is the greatest gift he could ever give me. An immediate smile just upon seeing my face.  
James has never been difficult for me to read. And I can tell he truly means every smile he graces me with.  
I would continue my blissful existence without the use of this journal, but, sadly, James has gone back to his apartment.  
He lingered in the doorway for ten minutes, not wanting to leave as much as I didn’t want him to go. Eventually, he left, taking my heart with him.  
I picked up around the house, cooked my lunch, and went through some paperwork already. It went remarkably fast. Now I write in this journal just to pass the time, until he returns into my arms.  
Growing up, I was taught Heaven was a place. And I suppose my family wasn’t precisely wrong. They just didn’t know that Heaven was in his arms. I crave to be back in his embrace. I crave him. By God, when did I completely lose myself in him?  
I would get lost again, without a second thought. 

**July the 16th**

I find myself restless, up far later than I should be. James would be upset with me. But James is the exact reason I find myself awake. Much earlier than I thought, we were ripped apart. He was called away to England on family matters, leaving me alone. Of course I understand, and my heart aches for him, but in more ways than one.  
I’m worried about him. I want to be by his side, supporting him, holding him when he needs to be held but won’t ask for it. I can always tell.  
I miss his scent, the feel of him. I can feel the ghost of his lips on mine, his arms around me, his hair between my fingers.  
My desires are less important than his family situation. I know that, I’m well aware of that. But it doesn’t stop me from missing him with every ounce of my body.  
Until he gets back, I will keep myself occupied. I have to, otherwise I may go insane. 

**July the 29th**

James has returned, and my heart can sing once more. He showed up on my doorstep early this morning, freshly arrived, with no warning of his arrival in the States.  
He hadn’t even stopped at his apartment. When I asked him why he hadn’t gone home, he replied that he just came home.  
He’s sound asleep, now, curled up in bed. He looks every inch an angel. When he awakes, I hope to hear all about his trip. I understand if he doesn’t tell me, though. James isn’t the most open person. Although, he’s always been particularly open with me.  
I suppose it finally makes sense. But I still don’t understand one thing. Why me? I remember back at university, plenty of people were interested in him.  
Women were attracted to him, understandably so. A quiet, mysterious author with a heavenly accent and a beautiful smile. Plenty of people were itching to be his muse, the one to whom he directed his wonderful words. But James was never interested.  
I could even see the desire in Mark, briefly. It wasn’t hard to see, I think everyone but James noticed. I could have understood James’s decision if he’d picked Mark. But instead, he chose me.  
I am eternally grateful for that. 

**August the 5th**

James has nightmares most nights. He’s told me they’re not as bad with me around, but…I worry about him. I’ve always been a creature of worry, and falling in love with James hasn’t made it easier. Having him love me back has further worsened it.  
He’s a grown man. He’s easily capable of taking care of himself. Yet it doesn’t stop my worrying. I want him to be okay.  
He’s been opening up to me about his nightmares. Mostly about a traumatic teenage memory that he always breaks down before he can talk about it in depth. But more recently, nightmares about the deaths of loved ones. His cousins, the Colonel, Celine, Mark. Mostly me.  
His greatest fears manifest in nightmares. And one of them is my death. My heart is warmed by it, in a strange, macabre sort of way. But I just want him to sleep soundly.  
I vowed to him I would watch over him tonight. I will save him from the nightmares, and keep a candle on as a light to bring him back.  
I won’t fail him. Tired as I may be, I will keep my eyes open until I’m certain he has slept. He would do the same for me, and it’s the least I can do. 

**August the 14th**

My nerves are on edge. My lines look shaky. I don’t even know what to say.  
It’s nearing the end of summer, and I’m terrified for two main reasons. One, I will be running for mayor. I’ve been campaigning on the side, yes, but I’m redoubling my efforts. Election season is almost upon me, after all.  
Two, although it’s silly, I’m worried about my relationship with James. I’ve had summer relationships before, and I’m simply not built for them. I fall in love too quickly, so when it’s time to call it quits, it breaks my heart.  
James isn’t like this, I know he isn’t. But I still find my heart stopping every time he departs. Will it be for the last time? He won’t break my heart. But it scares me how easily he could.  
And what if he decides against being with me when he learns I’m working harder to become mayor? What if he decides it’s not worth all the risks, all the secrecy involved?  
I’m not sure I could continue running in the campaign. 

**August the 25th**

Today could easily be classified as the best day of my life.  
I’ve never been very fond of my birthday. Even when I was a child, my sister cared more for her birthday than I ever did for mine. I didn’t understand the appeal.  
I neglected to mention this to James, clearly, in our many years of knowing each other. I was unaware of the fact that he loves birthdays. Especially when they’re not his own.  
James made me breakfast. I asked to wash up, and after some convincing, he allowed me, but he vowed I wouldn’t lift another finger all day.  
He then prepared lunch and spent the entire day doing what I requested. This sounds worse than it actually was. I simply asked for a day with him, strolling around town, going to the park, incognito so as not to be recognized. I felt like a child again, pretending to be a secret agent and, instead of stealing secrets, I stole kisses from James.  
James took me back to my home and put on a record. We slow danced until dinner, take-out, like old times, and reminisced for hours. Then, we made love. No special details, no different from any other time. It doesn’t need to be. I savor every moment of intimacy he allows, the number of which increases day by day. He allows me to hold him while he writes, allows me to distract him with lazy kisses across his neck.  
He allows me to explore his body, make marks on it the world is never allowed to see, but that we’ll both know are there.  
He sleeps in the bed, while I drink a fine glass of whiskey. As soon as I finish my glass, I’ll go back to bed, and sleep beside the man I love, cradling him close, savoring his smell.  
Birthdays might not be so bad. 

**September the 1st**

The days of autumn are upon us. I can feel the air changing around me, the demeanor in the people who speak with me. To some, they mourn summer’s passing. To others, like Penelope and James, the change in seasons is a blessing.  
James is incredibly animated when he talks about autumn. I could listen to him for hours upon hours, and likely already have.  
Personally, I will always look at summer fondly after the memories made this season. From back at university, the times I spent with my childhood and new friends, and now, with what is surely the love of my life.  
Summer was a beautiful, golden time of my life. And with James by my side, I look forward to the next adventure. 


	2. Autumn

**September the 12th**

The chill of autumn has officially entered the air. I can see the excitement in James’s eyes, and that pleases me more than I can say. He’s never been a fan of summer, though if I may flatter myself in saying, this summer may have been worth his time.  
He’s in planning state. I recognize it well, particularly from university. He’s planning the most effective use of time this autumn, helping out with my campaign, and his writing schedule. He’s studious, that one, he was even back then.  
I’ve told him repeatedly he needn’t help with my campaign, but he’s insisted. And I simply can’t say no to him, no matter how I try. I wonder if he knows what he does to me. How utterly incompetent I am if he merely smiles at me.  
If he knows, he’s much cheekier than I thought. If he doesn’t, it adds to his charm. Either way, I love him all the more for it.  
I’m already getting wrapped up in my campaign. I think I may make dinner for him tonight. Attempt one of the recipes he’s taught me, and generally spoil him, as much as he lets me. He rarely lets me spoil him, but I’ve already been so wrapped up in my campaign I feel like I’m neglecting him a bit.  
I will make tonight magical for him. Or at least, do my best.

**September the 30th**

I write this just before the stroke of midnight, by candlelight. Even I cannot believe what took place, tonight.  
I believe the cold weather has brought out the passion in James. I saw stars, tonight. The magnificent acrobatics of his tongue will forever be in my dreams.  
I think he knows how stressed I’ve been, recently. It’s not hard to see, I know, but he is the only one who’s seen the depths of it.  
He distracted me from work, sitting on my lap while I was at my desk. Of course, I was shocked, but desperately in need of a break. And when he started kissing me, I knew any work I could have gotten done would be lost to the night.  
His skin was warm, hands wandering under my shirt, tracing patterns only he could see. His touch is a special type of intoxication only I am lucky enough to experience.  
I picked him up as I stood, and he made a wonderful noise in the back of his throat. I took him to bed from there. He’s a lot lighter than he thinks he is, it was an easy feat.  
Just thinking about it is sending shivers up my spine. Never has my name sounded so sweet, erupting from his kiss bruised lips. Never have my shoulders been looser.  
James knew exactly what I needed. This campaign has been taking so much from me, including time with James. That is what I mourn for the most. Every missed second with him is a missed second of happiness.  
James Shefford is the man of my dreams. This, I know for a fact. He’s not the perfect man, and asking him to be perfect is ridiculous. But I love him. I am eternally his, even if he isn’t eternally mine.  
I will sleep for now, beside my lover, tangled in sheets that have taken on his smell as well as my own. I just wonder when I will be allowed to show my love for him openly. I wonder when I will be allowed to take him as my husband.  
I want to take him dancing.

**October the 5th**

I haven’t seen James in two days. I know it’s unreasonable for me to expect every single waking moment with him, he has his own life and I respect that. But words cannot describe how much I miss him.  
He decided to take a small trip to New Orleans, as he’s always wanted to go, but never got the opportunity before now. As much as I’d love to go with him, my campaign is taking over my life at the moment. It’s regrettable, but I really feel like I can do good as mayor. It will be worth it in the end.  
But every moment leading up to it has hurt. I had to let James go to New Orleans alone. I know he was so excited to go. I’ve visited, but visiting with James was sure to be a new adventure. His way of seeing the world is utterly beautiful, and the fact that I’m missing it…  
I sincerely hope this will be worth it.

**October the 17th**

My hands can’t stop shaking. James is gone. He stormed out of the house and I couldn’t stop him. He was angry with me and I understand why.  
My campaign has taken over my entire life. My habits have become unhealthy, I spend all my time working, I can’t seem to think of anything else. I spend so little time with anyone, let alone James.  
He looked so hurt. He didn’t raise his voice, but I would have preferred that he did. His voice was quiet, shaky. He looked about to cry. I wished he’d screamed, thrown things. But that isn’t the James I love.  
I wanted to comfort him, but I kept my distance, as he pointed out everything I’ve been doing. Not sleeping, poorly eating, constantly working, being so short-tempered with everyone, even James. I have a lot to make up for.  
I need to go apologize to him. Show him I’ll change my ways. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep putting James through so much.  
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

**October the 23rd**

I finally made it up to him. It took work, and I had to really think about my life, but I proved it to him. My campaign is not everything. I won’t break if I don’t win.  
What would break me is if I lost my existence. Lost everything that I loved, especially James. I don’t know what I would do if I lost him. I think I almost did.  
James storming out is easily the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me. I was worried he would never come back. Worried something bad would happen in his anger. Worried about anything and everything.  
It’s moments like those that make me realize who I am. I will fight for what I believe in, but at the end of the day, I’m no fighter. I’m a lover. I want to help people, attain peace. This shouldn’t work as it does with my unfortunate temper.  
But I am who I am. And miraculously, even after all I’ve put him through, James loves me. If he finds something wonderful about me, well. He can’t be wrong. His judgement in people has never been wrong before.

**October the 31st**

James loves Halloween. I’ve known this as long as I’ve known him, but it is infinitely entertaining to be in love with him and celebrating Halloween.  
He’s been burying himself in ghost stories all day. He invited over Penelope and Celine and has been telling them dreadful tales. I’ve been playing piano to accompany him, and I cannot even begin to describe how wonderful it is to see this side of James.  
He’s not unlike a child, in many ways. So excited to tell ghost stories to his friends, spend the night dancing to odd tunes I made up on the spot, narrating in twisted voices.  
The end of the election will be in three days. But I didn’t think about it all day. I spent the day with James, dressed as Dracula, watching him have the most fun I’ve ever seen him have.  
When Celine and Penelope left, James pulled me into a deep kiss and expressed his gratitude. In reality, I should be thanking him. He’s made so much of this process easier.  
I can never even begin to repay him.

**November the 3rd**

I won.

**November the 6th**

Settling into my new office has not been an easy task. James, I’ll admit, has made it easier. Finding small knickknacks to decorate with, discreetly. Whenever I look at them, my heart sings. It’s a part of him here, with me, always.  
I wish I could wear a wedding band and mean it. I could, regardless, but…no one would recognize it. They would ask me where my wife was.  
Some days I wonder if James would even marry me. I’ve only been romantically involved with him for a few months. He and I have loved each other for much, much longer, but the point remains. If James could, would he even want to marry me?  
I should ask him, at some point. After his birthday. He doesn’t need that kind of stress with his approaching birthday.  
I have so many plans for his birthday. I hope he enjoys it as much as he can. If I bring him half as much joy as he brought me on my birthday, I will be glad.  
I was rather lucky to have a clear schedule the 18th. My schedule has completely filled up, but miraculously stayed clear the one day I needed it to.  
I am exhausted. Today’s schedule was completely insane. I hope this is something to relax into, As I’ve only been mayor two days.  
But James fixed me dinner, and is now asleep in the bed. I watch the rise and fall of his chest. The most soothing lullaby I will ever need.  
He is curled in our sheets. I am about to join him. The bed is no longer my own. It is ours.

**November the 18th**

James’s birthday went remarkably well. I hoped it would, but even I’m shocked by it. Nothing ever goes that well when I plan.  
I woke him up with kisses and fresh breakfast. As he ate, he talked about his novel, and I reminded him not to choke.  
After that, I went out and bought him flowers. They didn’t have any lilacs, but dahlias worked fine. As long as it wasn’t roses.  
We spent the day together, until night fell. Then, I asked him to dress nicely. He was confused, but complied. I tied his tie, and he was adorably flustered.  
I disguised myself as best I could and took him out into the night. I had heard rumors of an underground lounge for couples…like us. And they were true! There was an agreement amongst the staff and patrons to not mention their appearance to anyone outside, and this was greatly appreciated.  
James was so teary as I took him for a dance, the first dance we’ve ever had in relative public. Likely the only one we will have in public.  
Many people I knew were there. But all we shared were small nods of silent agreement. Our involvement did not go past these walls.  
We found a tucked away corner in the lounge and talked about everything, it felt like. After spending hours there, dancing, talking, freely kissing, we went home.  
I took him to bed and treated him as he should be treated. Like royalty, like the most precious gem the world has ever seen.  
I am still awake, catching up on some work. My veins are still alight from the thrill today brought. But I will join him in blissful oblivion, soon. I cannot get enough of him.

**November the 27th**

Today is a free day for me, the first since James’s birthday. I’ve been spending it in silence, barely a word spoken to James. He hasn’t minded, he’s been writing.  
At one point in the day, however, I did bring him onto my lap. He barely stopped writing, only halted the motion of his pen as he settled. Teasingly, I kissed his neck, and I saw his ears turn red.  
Perhaps it was a bit rude, but I kept kissing him. Then he turned around in my grasp, casting aside his notebook, and gave me a taste of my own medicine. Maybe the chill has brought out the good mood in both of us.  
I’m now seated at the window, watching the first snowfall of the year. My breath fogs on the glass, and I can’t help the childish temptation to draw shapes. It brought a smile to my face, things that are becoming rarer now.  
I love my job, but it is utterly draining. I miss having time with James, with my sister, and my friends. I miss my life. Hopefully things will calm down.  
I’m wrapped up in a sweater a bit tight on me, as it belongs to James. To be fair, it’s a bit big on him. James is a self-proclaimed lamppost man, and I find it endlessly attractive.  
He’s walking this way, now. I hope he sits with me.

**December the 1st**

The chill of winter has fully settled upon us. I can feel the long nights ahead, holding James beside the fire. I can taste the hot chocolate on my tongue, feel the snow on my cheeks, the cold air in my lungs.  
It snowed again in the night. I woke up to a fogged up window, snow lazily falling. James had gotten cold in the night, pulling the blankets tighter around him. A privilege for me, who sleeps tighter around him than any blanket could be.  
I kissed behind his ear, down to his jaw. He stirred awake, looking over his shoulder to smile at me.  
I will never tire of waking up beside him. Before he’s had a chance to try to fix his hair, put on his glasses, do anything. His first reaction when he sees me in the morning is to smile, and it will never fail to brighten my day.  
His sleepy voice is among my favorites. His accent is thick, sometimes he slips into Italian, and he never even tries to hide his emotions.  
I brushed away his curls and I heard him giggle, softly. I could listen to that all day.  
He turned over and started peppering my face with soft, clumsy kisses. He reminded me without knowing it, why I love this life so damn much.  
I can only assume this winter will be more wonderful than autumn has been. And despite its hiccups, this autumn was fantastic.


End file.
